Secrets are no fun
by neko-nyamicon
Summary: Nathan has a secret and needs some...help? A tired Dethklok has some trouble finding out what's hiding in the kitchen cupboard. [Implications of boyxboy and lemon in potential future chapters]
1. Good morning Dethklok

It was a long day. A very long day for the world's greatest metal band. Each member distanced in their own but all in all, a mass of bodies slumped in a heap. The youngest of the band was sprawled on the floor, face down, with hair haloed out and, without any active knowledge, underneath a weary drummers toes. Pickles stared straight ahead, eyes dazed and unfocused at the large, black screen in front of him. Murderface had taken to slumping against said drummer, dismissing any misconceptions of his heterosexuality for the sake of being too drained to care, mouth hung slack and hand dismissively twitching as a result of excessive, and a rare excitement, to playing his bass from 9 am, to whatever time it got dark outside; he was too drained to care.

Skwisgaar had joined toki on the floor contrastingly face up only after berating his "lacksk of capsabilities of disciplines" to which was reciprocated with a hearty " _fuck you"_ in the rhythm guitarist's native tongue, to which _that_ was reciprocated with an even heartier " _when and where bitch"._ To which then extended into a sad exchange of slaps against whichever body part they could reach, an equally eventual truce for the lack of energy.

Nathan, however, by the grace of whatever was fueling him, the devil maybe, was able to make nachos, write six more songs (one with exactly six hundred and sixty six words), and still find time to do some online shopping next to the comatose Pickles. Every so often asking each member of the band what size chain mail they were, although never really getting a response. He measured the time passing in noises from each member; every hour, Toki would make some kind of gurgling, to which then, skwisgaar would reply thirty minutes later with an angry hum, to pickles ever other 10 minutes with a slowed blink. Murderface didn't make a noise but he didn't think he'd want him to anyway.

After another full round of noises, he chanced to check the time; 2:02 the corner of his laptop read and he decided that was a good time to do something. Closing his laptop, he stood up from the coach. Cracking his back and staring down at the other members of his band.

"Hmm."

He trudged off to the kitchen, not making an effort to muffle his heavy footsteps or the cacophony of pots and pans he filed through to get what he was looking for. He stood on his tippy toes to reach to the back of the cupboard, fingers just grazing what he wanted but to no purchase. He wasn't tall enough, but he knew someone who was.

Walking out of the kitchen, his steps reverberated through the floor against the 6'7 lead guitarist; taller than a tree. By the look on his face, Nathan could tell that whatever he was thinking about, he was enjoying it. And judging by his boner, he was _really_ enjoying it. Nathan dismissed this for his own sake and shook the lead guitarist harshly on one of his bony shoulders.

"…Mmm Ethel…donts stops.."

"Skwisgaar."

"Your throatsk sounds a bits harsh…does you wants my hards candy…mmm"

"Skwisgaar."

"Here…haves some mm…metamucilsk-"

"Toki's gonna be lead if you don't wake u-"

"FUCKS NOS."

Skwisgaar's eyes burst open in irritation, the sudden reaction catching up with his lack of strength as his eyebrows furrowed; darkened bags underneath reddened eyes directed towards the singer's own green.

"Hey."

Skwisgaar's lip curled.

"If yous make Toki leads I swears to gods-"

"Help me out."

"…withs what?..."

"Get this thing in the kitchen, I can't reach."

The silence that followed was long and unnecessary.

"What is its?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Is its embarrassing?"

By this time, Skwisgaar had sat up, scratching his head, making already messy hair even messier, increasing the volume of blonde tresses. He looked down next to him, seeing the Norwegian lying on his face. Nathan followed his gaze.

"No. It's just mine."

"Whats is its?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why nots?"

"Because."

"Becauses…?"

"Because it's mine."

"Heys checks dis out."

The lead guitarist bent down slowly, still obviously feeling the effects of whatever they were smoking that lead them to making two albums with 15 hidden tracks in fifteen hours. He crawled the rest of the way towards Toki on his stomach, cupping one hand against the area where the tip of the rhythm guitarist's ear poked through brown hair. Nathan watched on curiously as Skwisgaars lips moved slowly, inches from Toki.

The blonde could only contain himself for so long until whatever he was saying was being broken apart with small bursts of giggles and slow retractions of thought. Suddenly, the Norwegian's hand began to move, swatting at the other's general direction but not quite making it. The Swede has a big smile across his face, eyelids low and sultry as he was finishing off the secret whispers Nathan would probably never hea-

"YOUS A SLUTS WITH NOS CLASSES AND A FAT ASSES SKWISGAARS SHUTS UP!"

Toki snapped upwards, wincing at the sudden tug on his head from an unknown downward force; with a slight movement, said force was just Pickle's foot.

"Ahh comes on Pickle…"

"Oh." That was… much less interesting than the lead singer had assumed.

"Ohs Ja? Wells den Toki, I didn'ts wants to say anythingks but everyone tinks yous kinda chunkies in de trunkskies."

Skwisgaar had erupted in laughter at the response he was expecting and had received.

Toki had moved his weight onto his elbows having freed the piece of his hair by prying the drummer's toes expertly apart as to allow for him to stare daggers into the others eyes, knowing for a fact that the other knew he was sensitive about his southern appearance having told the lead guitarist that information in privacy. Toki moved forward, stopping a bit to catch his balance and positioning himself upright, legs crossed and arms crossing across his chest.

"You saids yous wouldnts tells nobodies"

"I didn'ts."

"Den whys you saids-"

"Wells yous just went an blurteds outs de ting justs nows. You justs…fuckeds yourselves dere pal."

Skiwsgaar was motioning his arms wildly, excitement slowly catching up to him as he recoiled and held his head. Toki huffed and moved his fist in front of the Swede, slow enough to get the other's attention. When the other had went cross-eyed, a mighty flick met the area just between his eyebrows.

"Yous fuckinS DEAD TO-"

"Hey guys."

A set of aggravated eyes pierced through Nathan's reserved own. Toki however, looked rather proud of himself, having upgraded his posture from a slouch to straightening his back and chin upwards.

"Ohs hellos Nathans hows you?"

"Im uh…good."

"Nathans tells him abouts yous secrets."

This caught the youngest's attention. He always loved a secret.

Thanks for reading! I'll add another chapter up soon depending on the feedback and views!

-C4K3


	2. The journey continues:

"Uhh…" Nathan eyed the rhythm guitarist vacantly in contrast to the bright eyed and bushy tailed other.

"…Sos…whats it ams-"

"It's not a uh..secret. It's just a thing. That is mine. And is none of your business. Because I just need Skwisgaar."

Said Swede was heavily engrossed into the conversation as his usual composure was the opposite of what he was now. What did they take…? Nathan sat next the guitarists on the ground, having realized that this conversation was going to be a lot longer than he would've liked. Skwisgaar crossed his arms as the frontman lowered himself, smirking at Toki and gesturing with his eyebrows at Toki. That of which was replied with a confused expression and a gentle scoff. Skwisgaar's eyes widened as he moved his entire form towards the frontman, gesturing absurdly towards Nathan and nodding his head upwards. The rhythm guitarist's eyelids fell as he gave up on trying to decipher whatever the hell the other was insinuating.

" _You know we can speak another language, right?"_

 _"Ja, I know but like, isn't that disrespectful or something?"_

 _"Skwisgaar. You're the world's fastest guitarist and the world's biggest asshole and you're concerned with being disrespectful to the guy that won't even-"_

 _"Just because I'm amazing doesn't mean I have no manners-"_

 _"_ Hey. Fuckers. I still need…assistance."

Both guitarists look towards Nathan, taken aback.

"Wows Nathans don'ts yous know it ams a disrespecks to interrupt a conversations."

"Jas Nathans. The _fucks ams wrongs with yous."_

With each word, Toki's voice raised a higher pitch as he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows at the frontman. The focus was shifted between the brunette and the blonde for several minutes.

"Hm."

…

"PICKLES!" The frontman got up quickly to move in front of the drummer still stuck in dreamy haze. Both guitarists following his gaze and muttering in their native tongues to eachother about " _the disrespect"._ Unfortunately, he was met with silence as pickles was still lost in space.

"Pickles. Hey uh, wake… up?"

"He'sh dead."

The voice had startled everyone as every conscious participant looked to the left of pickles at Murderface crouched forward, knife being twirled between his fingers. His eyes were closed as he addressed them making him seem that much more philosophical and insightful even though he wasn't wearing any pants; one philosophical testicle just peeking out of his black briefs.

"He'sh been dead for almosht…ten minutesh now."

"Pickle amn't dead Moiderfa-"

"Check hish PULCSHEEEE." A Philosophical banshee scream spurred them all with a shiver of fear. Nathan daringly moved two fingers towards the drummer's neck; eyes wide and shoulders hunched as he briefly looked over towards the guitarists who were both just as shaken as he was in silence. He could already feel the heat radiating off of Pickles; anxiety causing his fingers to shake. He doubted the others was dead but something about the way Murderface said it just made him sweat just a little bi-

"AAAAAAAAAAH!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAA!"

The guitarists were closer to each other than they were before Nathan left them, mouths open in silent screams.

"WHAT THE FUCK PICKLE-"

"I FECKIN GOT YER ASS DOOD I SWEAR TA GAD-"

He didn't mean to punch pickles, it just sort of happened and it was too late to go back on it now; especially since said punch knocked the drummer out cold.

"Well he'sh fuckin' dead now."


End file.
